


Crossroads Meet

by Tabithian



Series: Cities in Dust [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3822049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's taken a while to realize it, but Jason has no control over his life now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossroads Meet

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be a short, cracky fic, but in writing it I realized that apparently I have _feelings_ regarding the A Voice in the Wilderness exotic weapon bounty, okay. Just. Ugh, _feels_.

Jason's looking forward to cashing in the bounties that have kept them away from the Tower for a while, looking forward to taking a shower and food that doesn't come in a pouch. Looking forward to being able to get some sleep without setting watches or setting traps for anything – anyone – trying to sneak up on them. 

“The Postmaster wants to see us when we get to the Tower,” Tim announces, voice distant as he access the Tower network. “There's a message waiting for us.”

Jason groans, dreading another delay, and drops his head back. Closes his eyes for a moment.

“I don't suppose you're expecting anything?” Jason asks, because he sure isn't. 

He'd spoken to Dick that morning before they'd set off back to the Tower, been updated about clan business and reassured that he and Tim would have a few days rest before the next meeting, so nothing there. It's possible one of the Guardians he's worked with in the past might have contacted him about joining them on patrol or a mission, but odds are low on that front, so - 

Tim sighs, cants a look at Jason. “Not at the moment, no.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jason says, checks the instrument panel one last time for air traffic around the Tower before they drop out of the clouds a mile out.

It's not. Not superstition that has Jason doing this time and again when they're returning to the Tower, even when they've only gone as far as the Cosmodrome or one of the Crucible's Earth-side training grounds. It's just - 

“ETA, five two minutes,” Tim says, and even his voice is hushed as they pass over the City's walls, arcing wide around the of he Traveler, Tower rising behind it.  
The City rushes by below them, and Jason breathes a little easier when they do this, sees that the City's walls standing tall, The City safe within. (Not superstition, no, but close enough.) 

“Drop me off in the Plaza, it's probably urgent,” Jason says, not at all lying wildly.

Another look for that, and fine, fine, maybe Jason doesn't want to hear what Holliday's going to have to say about the damage the jumpship's taken this time. (Totally not Jason's fault, but Amanda's protective of the ships under her care, and she's been known to ban Guardians from her hangar for treating them rough.)

“Of course, I'm sure it is,” Tim says, and a second later Jason feels the jumpship's course correcting minutely, pitch of the engines going a shade quieter as Tim takes over.

“Be nice,” Jason admonishes as he feels a faint tingling sensation washing over him, light filling his vision. “Please.”

He could use threats, but those are just more likely to make Tim dump him on his ass in the middle of the Tower Plaza, if not just on the Plaza railing itself, a long drop below him.

The last thing he hears before Tim activates the transmat is a suspiciously neutral, _'hmmm'_ , and a flash of cold and the sounds of the mid-afternoon crowd in the Plaza microseconds before it blurs into view around Jason.

Tim must be feeling generous – that or he just doesn't want to hear Jason's bitching again - because Jason lands lightly on his feet with minimal wobbling. 

“Thanks, buddy,” Jason says, turning to watch as Tim flies the jumpship to the Tower's hanger.

Tim doesn't answer, busy, so Jason starts to make his to the Postmaster, steps faltering when Tess looks over at him and _smirks_.

“Hunter,” she greets, tips hims a sly wink and says, “Good luck.”

Jason wants to, _should_ ask, but at the same time really, really doesn't want to, so - 

“Thanks?”

Tess chuckles and Jason feels the hair on the back of his neck lift up, but Tim chooses to pop back up before he can turn around and ask, glaring at him.

“I'm never doing that again,” Tim says, irritated.

Jason raises a hand and gently bumps Tim, pushing him towards the Postmaster counter and away from Tess' smirking face.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm grateful, you're a true friend,” Jason says, and even though the words are virtually dripping sarcasm, he means it.

Tim huffs, like he has it so rough, and comes to a stop just short of the Postmaster's counter, Kadi inclining her head in greeting.

“You said there was a message for me?” Jason asks.

Kadi nods, and turns to look for it and after a moment of searching hands over a _gold_ bounty missive. 

“Oh, dammit,” Jason says when he sees it, sharing a look with Tim.

“Guardian?”

“Ah, nothing, thanks Kadi,” Jason says, stepping away from the counter for the Titan hurrying over.

“Should we open it?” Tim asks, staring at the missive in Jason's hands.

That's the thing, isn't it? Jason knows what this is, who it's from without opening it. An exotic weapon bounty, and Jason's seen other Guardians get those, seen how they end up.

Jason's actually met the poor bastard who ended up with Toland's legacy, listened to him tell the story about what he had to go through to get it. Taking part in strikes spanning several planets and one small moon, and then going after Guardians in the Crucible with a focus on Warlocks until it was satisfied. (The _fuck_.)

“Can't,” Jason says, even though he wishes that was a valid option.

This isn't a reward, or no, it's not just a reward. It's a bit of a challenge, Cayde and the others daring Jason to show them what he can do, and a shiny new gun at the end of it is supposed to make it worthwhile.

“Jason.”

“What the hell, why not,” Jason says, a little resigned.

He's going to be go right back out there again, and he knows it. Cayde and the others know it, know there's no other choice with the Darkness and its armies coming after them. Might as well get a little something out of it other than a handful of raw mats and equipment that can't stand up to the caliber of enemies he's facing now that he has more experience on his side.

“Let's do it.”

*******

“Oh, well,” Tim says later. “There's no way this can possibly end poorly.”

“Shut it,” Jason says, reading the missive one more time, as though that's going to change anything.

Some unnamed Hunter had heard a voice coming from a locked loot cache on Mars, and they're supposed to go looking because they were on an important mission at the time and didn't have the time to poke around a little? 

*******

“Sorry,” Dick says, sheepish little smile on his face when Jason explains why he won't be able to take part in clan activities for a few weeks, at the very least. “We had time-sensitive intel for the Vanguard.”

Jason ignores Damian's derisive snort, the way the other ghost is trying to bait Tim into going after him, just rolls his eyes and sighs.

“Why am I not surprised it was you?”

A shrug, Dick noting something down on his computer. “Past experience, maybe?”

Jason hasn't been part of this stupid clan that long, but. Yeah, okay. 

“We're good, then?” Jason asks, shooting Tim a warning look when he shifts forward just the tiniest bit, angling for a clear angle of attack at Damian.

“It's a Vanguard matter, Jason, of course it is.”

Of _course_ it is. 

*******

Jason's starting to develop an entirely warranted dislike of Mars.

Yes, there's a stark sort of beauty to be found here. Endless vistas, rolling sand dunes, and clear skies at night, but there's also - 

“Oops,” Tim says, zipping away from the computer panel moments before it explodes and alarms start wailing. “I don't think it worked.”

Things like that, Tim getting tripped up time and again with the Cabal's network, not to mention the damn Cabal and when Jason's really lucky, the damn _Vex_.

“You're a menace,” he says, checking to make sure he has extra ammo on him before heading out to face the Cabal lumbering towards them already.

“You do this next time, then!” Tim shoots back, bristling.

“I doubt I could do worse,” Jason snaps, but. He probably could, is the thing. Jason flashes Tim a thumbs up, and forces a cheery note in his voice as he yells, “At least you managed to get the damn doors open first this time!”

Tim glares at him, and then Jason's too busy trying not to get killed (again, anyway) to give him more shit.

*******

It takes three weeks of searching before they stumble on it, Jason's eyes catching on the dull gleam of metal half-buried under the sand in the back of a cramped cave. Outside the Cabal and Vex are fighting a pitched battle, sounds reaching them over the faint howling of the wind, and Jason.

“Fuck,” Jason says with feeling because this is -

“It's mourning,” Tim says, dipping closer to the machine gun frame, dirty and caked in filth. “The gun is...in mourning.”

There's a bit of wonder in his voice, which Jason shares because it's a _gun_ , what the hell.

“Fuck.” Jason says again, wishes he had listened to Tim and turned the bounty down, maybe gone all humble on Cayde and the others, told them to give it to a more deserving Guardian. “We can't leave it here.”

For so many reasons, involving not letting the enemy hands on it because it's obviously Golden Age tech, but also - 

“It must have a name,” Tim says, turning to him. “It must.”

Something beyond a manufacturer make and model, Tim means. Like Jason's hand cannon, named after an old Earth idiom, like any good weapon the Guardians use.

“We need to take it to the gunsmith,” he says, taking out an old cloak they'd come across in a loot cache earlier that day.“He'll know what to do with it.”

Jason gently pushes Tim aside and wraps the machine gun up in the cloak under Tim's watchful gaze. “Take it up to the jumpship,” Jason says, listening to the battle outside drawing to a close. “I'll clean up whatever is left outside.”

Tim stares at him for a long moment, and then he's gone along with Jason's newest mistake and Jason's striding to the entrance of the cave to take care of any survivors, lips stretched in a grim smile. (This, at least, is simple.)

*******

“Please tell me you're kidding.”

Banshee just looks back at him, impossible to read as always, even for an Exo. “Do I look like I'm kidding?” 

Jason glances at Tim, hovering over the frame of the machine gun. Tim's gotten. Protective of it, never letting it out of his sight for long, if he can help it, and Jason. Jason can't say he doesn't understand because he can see it too, feel it, the depth of loss, of loneliness the gun's feeling.

One thing Jason's learned is that there's not a single Guardian who hasn't experienced loss, who doesn't understand it, not a damned one. Whether it's regret for a past most never learn, or losing an all too precious friend to an agent of the Darkness, they know loss, they know pain. 

Jason scowls, tries a bit of haggling although that never works, even though he knows Banshee's not really the one he needs to be talking to right now.

Banshee knows it too, the bastard. Knows Jason's going to fork over one of his hard-earned Strange Coins to Xur to buy the damn gun a _present_.

“I can't believe I'm doing this.” Jason mutters, ignoring the amused tilt to Banshee's head, the way the stiffness goes out of his posture.

Tim looks up from his fretting, because that's what he's doing, no matter what he says.

“Time to go, buddy,” Jason says, pretending he can't see Banshee laughing at him in his own way.

Xur won't be at the Tower for a few days, giving Jason time to do a little digging of his own before he goes any further on this little quest Cayde handed them. 

*******

Tess is good for Tower gossip, managing to get her hands on the juiciest bits thanks to her connections around the Tower and in The City, but for things like this Jason has to go to the Cryptarchs.

Problem with that is Jason doesn't exactly like Master Rahool, but not without reason. (He dares anyone to find a damaged recording in a pile of bones saying that a million deaths aren't enough for the guy without finding it unsettling.)

For once luck seems to be with them, Rahool busy studying finds a Titan brought back to the Tower to to spare them a few minutes, but his minions are happy to help, pointing them to the relevant records with a smile that's only slightly creepy. 

The records are...spotty, at best, only recently has anyone had any success in piecing recent history back together in any kind of recognizable form. Too much has been lost, irretrievable.

Countless hours later and who knows how many record files, Jason thinks he's found enough to get a picture of what he's gotten them involved in, and it's. Pretty damn horrible, actually.

Tim closes the file Jason's reading, turns the computer off and it's just the two of them in a dark little room, weight of history settling around them.

“Fuck,” Jason says, tired, weary. 

“We can't leave this unfinished,” Tim says, voice firm. “It - “

“Tim.”

The good thing here, if there is something like that to be found, is that at least they won't have to slaughter other Guardians in the Crucible to make a _gun_ happy. (Apparently that's happened more than once, which makes Jason wonder - just a little, mind - what the hell they're even doing some days.)

The fucking terrible thing is that the machine gun they'd found might have belonged to the legendary Hunter Pahanin Errata, and Jason happens to know for a fact that another Hunter has taken up using Dredgen Yor's Thorn. 

“You know who has Thorn now, right?” Jason asks, wondering. Really, really wondering if they're just making the same old mistakes over again resurrecting the Exotics like this. “I mean, you know, this isn't looking all that good for us.”

He finds himself wishing for the days when he'd thought Toland's Bad Juju back had been the worst that could happen because, well. 

Jason may or may not be bad at first impressions sometimes, especially when taking part in a Crucible game, more so when it's a Clash game. (He also may or may not know how much it fucking hurts to be hit by one of Thorn's projectiles. He'd rather not do that again, if possible.)

“I'm sure she's forgiven you by now,” Tim says, slow, completely unconvincing.

“Right,” Jason says. “I'm sure she has.”

Just like he's sure Harley's long-time partner isn't a creepy bastard who never stops _smiling_.

Tim sighs, drifting close enough to bump Jason's arm, companionably, and.

“Fuck,” Jason says, again, and he's been saying things along those lines far too often lately, but well-deserved all the same.

He doubts they've learned from the past, what little of it they've recovered, and there's every possibility he's going to end up like Pahanin one of these days, but they can't leave it like this. 

“That Xerxes I got off that Vandal isn't doing anything against the bastards we keep running up against.”

It's a decent weapon, hitting hard if not as fast as some of the others he's used, but it doesn't have enough firepower to punch through a Hive Knight's armor, never mind a Cabal Legionary's. (He really doesn't want to try using it against a goddamned Minotaur again, not after the last time.)

Lord knows he could have gone to the Vanguard armorer, or, hell even the Crucible armorer if he put in enough time there, but that's really not the point now, because.

Because Jason's an idiot, and to prove it he'd gone back to Mars even though he's really starting to hate it, hadn't he. He'd gone and scoured Freehold and the surrounding areas searching out loot caches with Tim at his side and now it's all on him. 

That ache in his chest just thinking about that damn machine gun, at seeing Tim go quiet and sad, and the damned machine gun he wishes they'd never found because it's another responsibility he never wanted but was given anyway. 

“Jason?”

“Shut up,” Jason sighs. (He's almost certainly going to regret this.)

*******

Dealing with Xur is as unsettling as always, because it's Xur and Jason's certain he derives some kind of twisted entertainment from messing with them.

“My will is not my own,” Xur reminds them, taking one of Jason's Strange Coins in exchange for a Golden Age ammunition module in “pristine” condition, and throwing in a little bow at the end.

“Yeah,” Jason says, taking a small step backward. “You've said that before.”

Xur holds his eyes for a long moment, inclines his head and says, “I am filled with secrets, but you would not understand them," like that's something anyone does.

“Right. Thanks for this, goodbye,” Jason says, and bustles a fascinated Tim out of there before he can ask Xur questions about his wares. 

*******

A quick stop to talk to Banshee - 

“You're sure I don't have to go into the Crucible to make it happy?”

“Buy something or get out of here, Hunter.”

“Okay, great, thanks. Always nice talking to you, Banshee.”

\- and Jason and Tim and their new friend head out to even the odds.

*******

“You have no idea what tactics or strategy even are, do you?”

Tired, sore, and covered in blood that mostly isn't his, Jason is really not in the mood.

“Look, pal,” he says, pulling the machine gun off his back. “You don't really need either of those against the Cabal, okay?” (Because of course he's back on Mars, dammit.)

Tim makes a disparaging noise, and yes, Jason's well aware of the brilliant tacticians and strategists the Cabal have, but. Seriously, the foot soldiers are pretty damn easy, just aim and shoot and try not to die.

He can _feel_ the machine gun's disdain, and really? Really.

“Fuck off,” Jason mutters, setting it down on the floor of the building they've taken shelter in for the night. 

A pointed sniff, and it turns its attention to Tim.

“You let him get away with such rudeness?”

Tim gives the ghost equivalent of a shrug, parts flaring out and rotating a bit. “You say that like I haven't tried.”

Jason sighs, focuses on other, important things, like making dinner for himself and not listening to the two of them bitching about his many supposed failings.

*******

“Things like this never happened to me before I met you,” Jason points out, completely fairly, in his considered opinion, even if it's a blatant lie, because _Tim_.

Dick looks at him like maybe Jason's finally lost his mind, which. (It's possible, is the thing.)

“The damn machine gun critiqued my battle plans, Dick,” Jason snaps, voice rising a bit towards the end. “Think about that, okay?”

And Dick, this is important to remember because so many forget, Dick is a jerk and as much of an asshole as Jason is, if not more so, shrugs and gives Jason this _look_ before going back to his computer.

“Well, of course,” Dick says.

In theory Dick's being a good acting clan leader while Bruce is leading a raid on Venus, reading over reports, but in reality he's forgotten to mute the sound. (Again.) 

Jason can hear explosions and victory cries rising from the speakers, and he's definitely made a mistake joining this clan, one hundred percent.

“You know who he is, right?”

Jason knows, okay. He knows.

“Yeah, well one thing's for sure,” he says looking over at the unoccupied desk on the other end of the office, Tim and Damian getting along for once as they talk to his machine gun. “that damn thing's full of something.”

Dick gives him an amused look for that, and okay, cheap shot, but.

“Funny how Pahanin never mentioned the damn gun's a fucking nag.”

Dick's grin widens, eyes cutting over to the others for a brief moment. “Well, you know, Jason,” he starts, and Jason groans, “We've lost so much of our history - “

“Fucking hell,” Jason says, dropping his hands in his face. “Shut up, okay? Just. Stop.”

Heartless as ever, Dick laughs at his pain and suffering and Jason seriously considers leaving the clan, but it's not like that's going to save him from a mother hen ghost or nagging machine gun. (What the hell is his life now, anyway?)

“Besides,” Dick says once he has his laughter under control, “I may be wrong here, but I imagine your so-called strategy involved shooting things and yelling angrily when you weren't being an asshole.”

That's really not the point, but whatever, Jason's too tired to argue. “Hey, break up the party over there,” Jason calls out, shooting Dick a dark look before going to gather his...whatever they are. “We've got a mission in the morning, and I thought you needed to do something.”

This last is directed to the machine gun, and for all that Jason had an idea of what he'd managed to get his hands on, he'd never quite expected this. Clean, long lines, painted brilliant red with white markings, spitting fire at their enemies with a viciousness that never fails to surprise him.

“If you have the time,” the machine gun says, quiet.

Jason rolls his eyes, picking it up it more care than he'd showed his other guns, and that's saying something. “Knock it off, you know I already said yes.”

There;s a moment of silence, and then a grudging, “I apologize.”

Jason waits for it - 

“...Brute.”

A heavy sigh, Tim and Dick's open amusement, Damian's general sort of disdain and Jason's life, okay. His life.

*******

Jason never really expected he'd ever have to leave his machine gun with Banshee so they could have a quiet moment together to say their farewells, but to be fair he's done a lot of things he never expected to do.

“Thank you,” Tim says, nudging Jason's shoulder. “I know you didn't want to do this, but thank you.”

He still doesn't know what Tim is, really, what any of the ghosts are. Doesn't know a whole hell of a lot about this time and place, but he's learning and that's something. (Has to be.)

“Shut up,” Jason says. And, “Seriously,though. He knows we live here, right? That we see Banshee all the time to restock? It's not like he'll never see him again.”

Tim doesn't say anything to Jason's bitching because they both know that's not the point. (The point is Jason's machine gun is a dramatic bastard.)

“He wants to discuss strategy on the way out,” Tim says, ignoring Jason's pained groan. “It's a long trip to Mars.”

“Oh, God,” Jason moans, picturing the nonstop lecture and questioning of Jason's life choices to this point by a _machine gun_ , “I officially hate Mars now, thanks for that, well done, what the hell.”

Tim laughs at him, and just. _Fuck_.

**Author's Note:**

> *hands*
> 
> :D?


End file.
